The Tide
by daphrose
Summary: What started as a simple classroom experiment while studying World War II becomes something very dangerous very fast. A movement known as "The Tide" begins taking over everything at Mission Creek High, and it seems that Bree Davenport is the only who realizes the danger and terror this group brings into the lives of everyone it touches. (Based off "The Wave" by Todd Strasser.)
1. Chapter 1

**Aaaand I'm back with** ** _another_** **new story! :D Woo! So, a few weeks ago I read a book called "The Wave" by Todd Strasser. One of the creepiest/most amazing books I've ever read. So what did I do? Convert it to fanfiction, of course! This story is based off that book, which in turn is based off the events of a Palo Alto high school in 1969.**

 **I had to decide whether to make this at the Bionic Academy or Mission Creek High, and whether to make it AU or not. There was a poll on my profile, and non-AU at MCHS won. Now, some things might be a little different, but it's not AU. Morphing the characters to match the format of the story was hard, but hopefully I pulled it off okay.**

 **Just to warn you, as I said, The Wave was very disturbing. Still, it has to be one of the most amazing messages. Even if it's creepy, I think it's something important for everyone to know. The Tide will have creepy parts, undoubtedly. I hope you'll still read it and learn something. I don't own Lab Rats or The Wave. Enjoy.**

* * *

 *** * * Chapter 1 * * ***

* * *

Bree Davenport sat in the back of the newspaper office, feet propped up on the table in front of her, pencil placed firmly between her front teeth. She could feel the wood cracking in her mouth. Her stepmom could lecture her all she wanted on the dangers of chewing pencils, but Bree honestly didn't care. She'd done it for as long as she knew what pencils _were_ , and she wasn't about to stop now. Besides, it helped her think. Although, at the moment, there wasn't much to think about.

"So," Blake Linley, editor-in-chief of _The Daily Dingo_ , said, "any ideas?"

Bree took the pencil out of her mouth and cleared her throat. "Oh, I have plenty of ideas. For example, a short segment on plaid."

Blake looked down at his plaid shirt and grinned. "Totally hot, right?"

"Sure . . ." Bree said, rolling her eyes. She looked down at her notebook page, which was full of adjectives she could use to describe the pattern. _Hot_ was not one. _Out-of-style, hideous, laughable, yes, but not hot,_ she thought.

"Okay, so the fashion article will be ready. That's great. We need more female readers."

"No kidding," Bree mumbled over her shoulder. Turning back to the boy, she said, "But we still need our sports section, the comic strip, the music corner, the advice column, _and_ a front page story!"

"I'm taking care of the story. Maybe something about the meat in the cafeteria. Flo Baker promised me an interview, and I'm going to get it." He pause for a moment and squinted. "Maybe I could get Denise to do the comic strip."

"Your five-year-old sister?"

"She draws some great dinosaurs! Don't give me that look. If Mack can't be bothered to do it, he'll be replaced by a kindergartener."

Bree chuckled to herself and looked out the window. The sun cast its beautiful warm glow over the world and the grass fluttered gently in the breeze. Bree began to wonder why she still sat in this cramped room with the smell of dry erase markers filling her nostrils instead of out there chatting with friends.

"I've been meaning to ask you," Blake said, snapping her out of her thoughts, "could you do the advice column for a bit? Just a few weeks. Kate Richardson's in Maryland visiting her aunt and uncle for the rest of the month. She said she'd write some articles in advance, but she never got around to it." He held out a few letters with questions written on them.

Bree sighed and took the papers. "Fine. I'll be sure to advise the readers never to wear plaid."

Blake scowled. "Oh, come on, you love it."

"About as much as I love you."

"So you're saying you'll go on a date with me?"

"Not if you were the last man alive."

Blake leaned back in his seat and his scowl deepened. He held up a sheet of paper and pretended to write. "'Why Teenage Girl Won't Fall in Love with the Cutest Boy in School,'" he read aloud.

"In your dreams, Blake." Bree studied his long red hair, coke bottle glasses, and bright red-and-green plaid shirt. Maybe he would be cute to some girls, but he was far from Bree's type.

Bree again turned her attention to the window. She contemplated her current situation. To most—even her brothers—Bree didn't seem like the type to spend her free period inside a stuffy newsroom with some of the strangest boys in school, but, to be honest, she loved journalism. The idea of writing out a story that people would pay attention to and learn from thrilled her. Plus, she got to write about fashion. She had even seen some girls around school start using her tricks. It might be a tad bit nerdy, but Bree had discovered that some boys liked nerdy. Anyway, it was better than sitting in the cafeteria and watching Adam make his belly button talk. Much, _much_ better.

The only annoying thing was that the others often failed to show up. If Bree could make it, surely they could! Mack Brady, their resident art geek, only went places when he "felt like it." Blake often had to chew him out when he neared deadlines. Still, he always got it in on time. He was in charge of comic strips and the music corner, where he reviewed the latest albums and singles from all the popular artists—and even some of the unpopular ones. His insight into the worlds of music and art was undeniably superior.

 _The Daily Dingo's_ sports author and all-around newsman was Quentin Ballesteros. His research was exemplary and he could make even the toughest boy in school break down and cry during a hard-hitting interview. Of course, that was when he could curb his procrastination—a self proclaimed bad habit of his.

Kate Richardson, one of the smartest girls in school, wrote the advice column. She occasionally went to Maryland to visit family there. It could leave _The Daily Dingo_ in the lurch, but at least she had an excuse for not showing up, whereas Bree was ready to go find Quentin and Mack and drag them down to the office by their ears.

"No one forces us to come during our free time," Blake said as if he had read Bree's mind. "We can't make Mack and Quentin come either. Besides, at this point people expect _The Daily Dingo_ to be late. It'll be a miracle if we get a paper out on time before the end of my senior year."

Bree glanced at the clock, hoping it was almost time to leave. One could only stand so much Blake. In five minutes the bell would ring, but that was close enough for Bree.

She slipped the half-chewed pencil back into its case and hopped up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. "I should probably get to history; Mr. Reed hates it when we're late." It was only a half-lie; Bree was sure Mr. Reed hated that everyone was late, but that didn't change the fact that no one showed up on time.

Blake nodded, and Bree figured he understood why she really wanted to leave. Still, he didn't protest.

The hallway was empty except for a few kids sitting against their lockers and chatting with friends, dreading the end of their free period. As she walked down the hall, Bree studied the letters in her hands. There were only five, and four were about relationship problems. _Piece of cake_ , Bree thought with a grin. In her mind she already had plenty of advice for the teenage girls and boys in the throes of a failing romance.

She stopped outside the door to room 231 and looked in at the students. Among them towards the front sat her best friend, Caitlin Wright. She doodled on her page, and when she caught a glance of Bree through her eyelashes, she grinned. Conspicuously, she moved her hands to her throat and pretended to choke.

 _This class is killing me!_

Caitlin couldn't be blamed. Mr. Philippe, the French teacher of the same class Bree stood outside of, had to be one of the most boring teachers in school. Even the brightest students could be put to sleep by his endless drawl. Bree had to suffer through his class the year before, and so she knew exactly what her friend was going through in that room.

Caitlin could use some cheering up, Bree decided. So she scrunched up her face and put her fingers in her ears. Caitlin covered her mouth and discreetly pointed the end of a pencil towards the front of the classroom. _It looks just like Mr. Philippe!_

Bree could do better. She made the most ridiculous face she could imagine, and that left Caitlin in near-hysterics. But Bree wasn't about to stop there. She turned around, getting ready to make a face so utterly shocking that Caitlin would be amused for the rest of the day. Bree scrunched up her face again and spun around . . . coming face to face with Mr. Philippe and a class of laughing students behind him.

The bell rang, and Caitlin rushed out and grabbed Bree's hand, pulling her away as Mr. Philippe called after them in angry French. At this point both girls laughed until their sides hurt, stopping near their lockers to take a breath. Caitlin imitated Mr. Philippe's stern face once more, and that sent them reeling. Finally Bree stood up, a hand pressed to her side.

"We should get to Mr. Reed's class," she said between giggles. "He really does hate it when we're late.

* * *

Sam Reed studied the projector, wondering for the life of him how some people could make it work. He had pushed every button and jiggled every switch, but nothing ever seemed to make it start. At last he gave up, heaving a large sigh. He could ask one of the smart kids to help him once they came in.

The history teacher walked up to his desk and picked up the sheets of homework. They looked the same as they always did. One A from Chase Davenport, of course. His sister received a B, his brother a D, and his stepbrother an A-. Those Davenport-Dooley kids were quite something. The variation between their grades alone was surprising—but not after one had met Adam Davenport.

In all four of his years as a teacher, Sam had never had four siblings together in the same class. He had been worried at the start of the year, but soon found that they spread out over the room and acted like they barely knew each other. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, Sam would let their parents decide. All he knew was that siblings squabbles popped up rarely, if ever, and they didn't cling onto each other and make the other students feel excluded.

Reed glanced through the other marks on the homework. Another D from Trent Darby, an A from Ethan Harper, and a few more B's and C's scattered throughout. Sam had never been one to be strict about homework. He was never one to be strict about anything, really. It made him popular with his students, but not so popular with some fellow teachers.

Sam was still new to the whole teaching business, and his ideas were often very radical. He would get so immersed in the topic they studied in class, and he would try to bring that enthusiasm to the students. They had to study the formation of a government? Let them form political parties and hold mock elections! Their next course was about a famous trial? Hold a court right in the classroom, and assign students to be the jury, prosecution, defendant, and defense attorneys. His strange methods had earned him some suspicion among his peers, but there was no denying the results: the students loved Mr. Reed.

The bell rang out in the hall, but it took several seconds for the students to start trickling in. As always, Chase was one of the first to walk in. Mr. Reed motioned him over. "Do you think you could help me set up the projector, Chase?"

Chase shrugged and walked over. "Sure."

While the smartest boy in school fiddled with the impossible piece of machinery, his older brother walked in. Adam wasn't the brightest on the academic side, but he was better with people than any of his siblings. He was generally liked, although he often got teased for his lack of intelligence.

As Adam walked into the room, he spotted Chase setting up the projector. "Are we gonna watch a movie?" he asked as he sauntered over to his seat.

Chase glanced up and scowled. "No, dummy, Mr. Reed just likes setting up projectors for fun."

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Mr. Reed said. That was usually all it took to keep the two boys from fighting. Whatever misgivings they had they could work out at home later, but not in his classroom. This was history, not family therapy.

By now most of the class had come in and settled into their seats. Mr. Reed picked up the stack of papers and walked around, handing the corrected sheets back to their owners. "Most of you did very well on these homework assignments," he said. "But they're getting sloppy. Do you really need to doodle on the edge of the paper?" He held up a page for example, being sure to cover the name with his thumb; no need to shame that student. "I'll start marking down points for messy homework."

Little good it would do. He had given the same speech the week before . . . and the week before that . . . and the week before that . . .

* * *

 **Yeah, there'll be quite a few OCs. The two main canon characters will be Bree and Leo. The main OC will be Mr. Reed, 'cause he's kinda important! If you're not getting the point of this story yet, you will. Very soon.**

 **So, Bree and journalism . . . first of all, the main character of "The Wave" was editor-in-chief of her school paper, and that was pretty important. Also, for some reason, I could see Bree being really into journalism. Especially something with fashion. I dunno, I just can!**

 **Just so you know, I won't be copying The Wave verbatim. (Of course not!) A few details will be the same (main character making faces at her best friend, newspaper is involved, teacher is awful at technology), but most of it will be pretty much my own. The LR characters are pretty different from the characters in the story, so pretty much I'm just taking the** ** _situation_** **and dropping it in Mission Creek High. But not word-for-word. I'll change it up some. :3**

 **By the way, guys, I'm on vacation this week. So expect a lot of new updates soon, hopefully! New DLLR chapter goes up tomorrow! (I hope!)**

 **So, how do you like it so far? Excited? Bored? Curious? Let me know in a review! Hopefully I'll see you again soon for the second chapter. (Ready to learn some WWII history? ;) ) Bye!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Heh heh, it's been a long time, hasn't it? Whoops. ^^; Let's not waste any more time. I don't own Lab Rats or The Wave. Please excuse any grammar mistakes, since I only edited this once. Enjoy!**

* * *

 *** * * Chapter 2 * * ***

* * *

"What you see on the screen are just some of the atrocities committed between 1934 and 1945."

The students watched with horrified looks at the images flashing in front of them. People who bore more resemblance to skeletons than human beings shambled in front of the view of the camera. There were piles of bones stacked waist-high. Sam sighed and folded his arms across his chest.

"What you're seeing resulted because of a single man: Adolf Hitler. Though he was originally a menial laborer, porter, and house painter, he turned to politics after World War I. Germany lost that war, and the country's pride was at an all-time low. Inflation set in, and thousands were left hungry and homeless.

"Hitler used that as the chance to create his own political party: the National Socialist German Workers' Party, also known as the Nazis. He spread ideas such as the fact that Germans were a superior race, and the Jews were responsible for all the suffering going on the country. Today we know that Hitler was literally a madman. He was thrown in jail in 1923 for his radical political activities, but in 1934 he gained control of the German government."

Sam paused, letting the students take in more of the video. The human skeletons were carted away to gas chambers, and their remains burned in furnaces. Sam couldn't even imagine what it would've been like to be there, to smell the burning flesh of human beings day in and day out. The very thought made his stomach churn.

"The death camps were part of Hitler's 'Final Solution' for the Jews, but more than just Jewish people were taken away and killed. Anyone who didn't agree with Hitler—anyone who the Nazis thought couldn't be part of a 'superior race'—was carted away and sent to camps all over Eastern Europe. The people were worked, starved, and tortured, and if they couldn't work anymore, they were killed in gas chambers and their bodies disposed of in ovens. The prisoners' life expectancy at one of these camps was two hundred and seventy days, but many did not survive for even a week."

The horrific film drew to an end and Sam said, "In the end, the Nazis had killed over ten million people in their extermination camps."

A student near the door flicked the lights on and Sam walked back up to the front, observing the appalled looks on the teenagers' faces. He hadn't meant to upset them, but he wasn't shocked that the film did. So many of the students had grown up in stable, middle-class homes, and even with the media constantly portraying the violence of the world, they still remained incredibly sheltered. Even now some started to goof off, and Trent Darby was asleep near the window, his face buried in his arms. Near the front of the room, however, Bree, Caitlin, and many other students looked utterly stunned.

"I know that was a harrowing thing to watch," Sam said, "but I showed this film for reasons apart from getting an emotional reaction. I want all of you to think carefully about the film and what you saw, and how all that played such an important role in our history. Does anyone have an questions?"

Caitlin Wright raised her hand.

"Yes, Caitlin?"

"Were all the Germans Nazis?" she asked.

"No, as a matter of fact, the Nazis made up less than ten percent of the German population."

"Then how come no one tried to stop them?"

"I couldn't tell you for sure, Caitlin," Ben replied. "I do know that they managed to scare the population. The Nazis were a minority, but they were a powerful minority. Germany had just gone through a terrible period of inflation, so maybe some of the people were hoping the Nazis could restore their country. Anyway, after the war, most Germans denied knowing anything about the atrocities Hitler and his cronies committed."

Ethan Harper raised his hand, his face twisted with confusion. "That's crazy!" he said. "How could you kill over ten million people without anyone knowing?"

"Yeah!" Adam piped up. "That can't be true."

Sam was pleased to see that the students were genuinely interested in this topic. He had seized their attention, and he was glad they were concerned.

"I can only say that after the war was over," he said to Ethan and Adam, "the Germans said they didn't know anything about the concentration camps or all the killing the Nazis had done."

Now Bree Davenport raised her hand. "Ethan's right," she said. "How in the world could the Germans just sit back and let the Nazis kill so many people? How could they say that?"

"All we know is that the Nazis were incredibly well-organized and very frightening. Why the German population acted the way they did is still a mystery to us."

Ethan spoke again. "There's no way I would let a minority like them get control of the majority."

"Yeah!" Adam said, slamming his fist on the desk. "I wouldn't let a few Nazis scare me into saying I didn't see anything!"

Sam wanted to answer a few more questions, but before he could, the bell rang, signaling the start of lunch.

Leo Dooley stood up and yawned. Even if the film had really bothered him, he was ready for some lunch. The bagel he had for breakfast hadn't been nearly enough, and even if the cafeteria food wasn't exactly five-star, he was hungry enough to eat almost anything!

Chase had already left and Adam was preoccupied with talking to some girl, but Leo noticed that Bree was still slumped in her seat. He walked over to her desk. "Hey, you coming to lunch?" he asked.

Bree shook her head. "Give me a minute."

"You sure? Today's pizza day, and if you wait too long all the good slices will be gone. Sure, even the best ones taste like cardboard, but at least it's not mystery meat."

"You go on ahead. I'll catch up."

Leo shrugged. "Suit yourself." He walked out into the hall, ready for something, anything to cure his growling stomach.

Meanwhile, Bree stood up and walked over to Mr. Reed. They were the only two left in the room, save for Adam, who took his time getting his things after his conversation partner left. "I can't believe the Nazis were that cruel," Bree said to her teacher.

"After the war the Nazis tried to excuse their behavior," Mr. Reed said. "They said they were just following orders, and if they didn't, they would've been killed themselves."

Bree shook her head. "That's not an excuse. They could've fought back, could've done something! No one would just take an order like that. It's totally sick."

Sam nodded his head in agreement

Bree sighed and left, torment and disgust still written across her face. Sam noticed Adam also trying to leave and follow his sister. His normally cheery smile had slipped off his face.

"Adam," Sam called. The boy froze. "Adam, are you getting enough sleep at home."

"Oh, plenty," Adam said, turning to face his teacher. "Most days."

Sam pursed his lips. Adam was one student he couldn't figure out. The boy was often teased for being so far behind. Sometimes it seemed as if he had the intelligence to do well in the class, but he just didn't use it. "Adam, if you don't start doing better, you're going to fail this class. You don't want to be back here a third time, do you?"

Adam shrugged. "I don't care."

"You don't care?"

"I'm not exactly the school type. I'm not the smart one."

"Adam, I think you're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for."

"Sorry, Mr. Reed, but I'm really not. Chase is the smart one."

Chase. Adam's genius younger brother. The one everyone went to for help. Sometimes even the teachers asked him for help on their curriculum, and when he corrected someone, he was always in the right. Was it possible that Adam lived in his brother's shadow?

"Listen, Adam, no one is expecting you to be as smart as Chase. But you're smart enough on your own. All I'm asking is that you try."

Adam shuffled uncomfortably. "I have to go." He turned to leave the room.

"You don't have to be a genius, Adam!" Ben called after him, but the oldest student in his class was already gone.

* * *

 **Short chapter, I guess. But I wanted to get something out. This isn't filler, I promise. (Learning about history is never a waste of time!) It's setting the groundwork for some very important events later on. Reviews are always welcome, of course! And, since there's honestly not much to review about, how did you feel about all the things the Nazis did to those people? What was your reaction to Mr. Reed's talk/video (even if you couldn't actually see the video)? Thanks for reading, everyone! Hopefully the next update won't take so long. See you all soon! Bye!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Yes, long time. I know that. You think I** ** _don't_** **know that? Let's get on with it. I don't own Lab Rats or The Wave. Enjoy!**

* * *

 *** * * Chapter 3 * * ***

* * *

Leo wolfed down the food in front of him. It was by far some of the worst pizza he'd ever eaten, but it was better than most food the MCHS cafeteria served. It would have to do. Besides, he'd skipped breakfast and now he was starving. He devoured the whole thing in a matter of minutes.

Bree, on the other hand, merely picked at the tip of her pizza. She pulled of the pepperoni slices—she wasn't a fan of pepperoni—and Leo gladly took them.

Adam walked up to them with a slice of pizza already hanging out of his mouth and took a seat beside his sister.

"Adam, that's so gross," Leo said.

"What?" Adam said. He pulled the rest of the pizza into his mouth and swallowed it in one gulp.

"I can't believe you and Chase are related."

All that got Leo was an icy-cold glare from his older stepbrother.

"Bree," Leo said after a few moments. "Hello? Earth to Bree!"

"Hmm?"

"What's got you so distracted?"

"Oh, just . . . you know . . . the movie."

"The one Mr. Reed showed us?"

"Yeah. I mean . . . how can you seriously eat so much and not be sick to your stomach after seeing all that?"

"Well, I am upset about it, but I still want lunch. Does that mean I can have the rest of your pizza?"

Bree pushed her plate toward him. "Go to town."

"C'mon, Bree, it was just a movie," Adam said. "It's not like that stuff really happened."

"Adam, we were in history. Everything Mr. Reed talks about really happened."

"Wait, does that mean all those people really . . ."

Bree nodded and looked down at the table.

"Oh." Adam took a sip of his drink and frowned. "Oh."

"I know it's upsetting," Leo said between bites of pizza. "It's one of the worst atrocities humanity's ever face. But it's in the past now. The world learned its lesson and we can all move on. Nothing like that can ever happen again."

"I guess you're right."

"Hey, move it, dweeb!" Caitlin shouted as she ran up to the table.

"Nuh-uh!" Chase said as he moved up with lunch tray in hand. "I was here first!"

"Well, I _wanted_ to be here first. Besides, Bree's my friend."

"And she's my sister!"

"Guys, there's more than enough room here for the two of you," Leo said, moving over to make space for them.

"No, there's really not," Bree said, putting a hand on the back of her head.

Chase and Caitlin sat down, glaring at each other across the circular table.

"So, Leo," Chase said, still not removing his gaze from the girl he found offensive, "how's your debate studying been going?"

Leo groaned. "I'm doing fine, Chase. You really need to get off my back about that."

"We have that big competition on Saturday; I'm just making sure you're ready."

"Do you think you stand a chance?" Bree said. She didn't care much about debate team, but _The Daily Dingo_ needed another news story—assuming you could consider a school debate news.

"Not at all," Leo said. "Our team has no idea what they're doing. We're always on each other's backs, and Mr. Falk is about ready to tear his hair out—what's left of it. Half our team doesn't show up to practice anyway."

"Plus those guys from Welkerville are good," Chase said. "State champions last year. I thought since the team had me, we'd be fine, but it turns out that everyone needs to work together in order to achieve something. Who knew?"

"Yeah, there's some kid they added this year . . . freshman, but he's taking college courses. He's some kind of kid genius, and Mr. Falk says he's the one we need to look out for."

"Hey, I'm a genius, too! We got this."

" _If_ we can learn to work together. We _all_ need to 'get this.'"

Bree gave a half-hearted smile while still staring at the cafeteria doors.

"Are you still thinking about that movie?" Leo asked.

"The movie from history class?" Chase said.

"Yeah, it really bothered her."

"You don't need to make that public news, Leo," Bree said with a glare.

"Don't worry," Caitlin said, "it bothered me, too. Even me, so you know it's got to be some pretty bad stuff."

"Right, and it bothered me, too," Leo said. "Of course it did. But it's history now. All over, all done. No need to dwell on the past, am I right?"

"I guess so," Bree said, standing up with her tray in hand.

"Where're you going?" Caitlin asked.

"I need to get to work on _The Daily Dingo_."

"I'll come with you. Beats hanging around these losers."

"Yeah, why do you think I'm leaving?"

"Hey!" Adam, Chase, and Leo protested.

* * *

Caitlin and Bree sat in the newspaper office with the door locked, chatting with each other. Caitlin wasn't on the newspaper staff, but Bree let her into the office so they could hang out together. Sometimes Bree needed another girl in the room. Caitlin used it as an excuse to whip out the gum and make a game out of trying to blow a massive bubble.

"It was a pretty disturbing movie," Caitlin said between chomps, "but what's more disturbing is that you have two brothers on the debate team. Honey, how'd you get so much nerdy-ness in one family?"

"I don't know; you tell me," Bree huffed. "They're both the tech people, I guess. I never understood it."

"And you actually asked them about it."

"Hey, it might make for an interesting story. I've got to cover so much of the news around here. Most of the boys don't do their fair share of the work."

"I wouldn't let them push me around like that if I was you."

"Believe me, I've tried to get them into gear. It's impossible."

"Want me to do it?"

"No, no, I think I'll be fine."

Bree and Caitlin had been friends since the former first came to high school. They'd been through a lot together, but they still had their differences. They'd always held a kind of competition with each other—who could have the most boyfriends, who could be the most popular, and even who could be the most intimidating. They never openly talked about it, but the quiet competitive spirit—mostly owned by Caitlin—kept them from getting closer, and Bree regretted that in some ways.

Someone knocked on the door and Bree called, "Who is it?"

"Principal Perry. Why's this door locked? Open up this instant, termites!"

Caitlin, who was currently mid-bubble, widened her eyes. She popped her gum, moved the massive wad to the front of her mouth, and searched desperately for a trash can. Bree pointed her to one as she got up to open the door.

"Hello, Principal Perry, we were just . . . oh."

Outside the door stood Mack and Quentin, laughing their heads off at what they thought to be a hilarious joke. "You fell for it!" Quentin said, holding his stomach.

"Ha ha, yeah, you got me. Now, do either of you have your assignments ready for the next paper?"

"I'm working on it," Mack said. "Don't rush art, Bree-baby."

"Don't call me that."

Caitlin walked up to the door, wiping her mouth. "Ugh, it's only you two? I wasted a perfectly good wad of gum!" She frowned and took a step closer.

"Oh, uh, I think I hear the art from the museum down the street calling me," Mack said. "See you later!"

"Yeah, what he said," Quentin said as he took off after him.

"Well, tell that art it'd better give you a good idea for a comic strip! It's due Friday, Mack!" Bree called. She leaned back into the room and looked at her best friend. "See what I have to deal with?"

* * *

 **Perhaps not my best chapter ever, but it's something.**

 **I don't know when the next update will be. I'll try to make it soon, but to be honest, I can't promise anything. I'm sorry for taking so long on some of my stories, but I do have news: This year and from now on, I won't post new stories until I've finished them entirely. That way you won't have to wait around for so long. I'll also work harder on updating the stories I haven't finished yet. Keep reviewing and reminding me, because I'm quite forgetful.**

 **That being said, I'll try. I'll really try. Thanks to all for reading, and thanks in advance for the reviews. Hopefully I'll be able to update this soon. Bye! :)**


End file.
